


Good Evening, Peter

by terryreviews



Series: Vampire and Hunter [7]
Category: Fright Night (2011), Twilight (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: Why? That's what Peter wants to know, why does Aro seek him out? What about him attracts this blood sucking demon?
Relationships: Aro (Twilight)/Peter Vincent
Series: Vampire and Hunter [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539046
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Good Evening, Peter

As he entered the room, he heard the violins of some instrumental piece with trumpets, drums, whole nine yards. He dropped his work bag, the metal and wood of his _tools_ clacking inside, and moved further into the space. He saw Aro, prim and proper, sat in the armchair, eyes closed. Of course, the posh snob was listening to classical music. Probably never listened to any music published after 1900.

Peter breathed, deeply through his nose. He was sober, overly caffeinated. He could feel the blood pumping through him, the fire in his belly strong, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes, how they ached.

With another deep breath, he made up his mind and marched straight over to Aro.

Aro's eyes flew open and his expression turned from delight to concern.

“Peter? What's wrong?”

Briefly, Peter's gaze drifted to the ceiling as he muttered, “what isn't.”

Peter looked back down at the other, his eyes so red, sunken from lack of sleep, and full of such wrath and pain as Aro had ever seen.

“Are you alright?” Aro studied his face, “have you been crying?” Empathy, by rule of thumb for a vampire, was not often practiced. However, this was Peter. 

“No,” Peter answered, bending at the waist as he deliberately took hold of each armrest and brought himself to eye level with Aro.

Aro's innards squirmed as, for the first time, concerned about what Peter would do. Not that the human could hurt him in any way, but the broken, hate-filled gaze piercing into him made him uncomfortable, worried.

“Which question,” Aro's hand, cold and smooth, ran along the top of one of Peter's, feeling the tension in each finger as the other squeezed the armrests tighter, “were you answering?”

Peter inched closer, his breathing coming harder. Tears welled up in his eyes before they rolled down his cheeks and dripped off his chin.

Very low in his throat, with sharp articulation, he said, “Shut. Up.”

Peter moved first, bringing his lips crashing hard into Aro's, clumsy, bumping their noses together. Nothing about it was good. Objectively, it was one of the worst kisses either had ever engaged in. Wet, too many teeth, wrong angle but there was something honest, raw.

There was a part of Aro that enjoyed it immensely. Here was Peter, a man that he'd grown rather fond of, was learning more about each time they were together, that he was physically attracted to, kissing him. Not well, mind, but beggars can't be choosers. 

For his part, he did not move a muscle, allowing Peter utter control over the situation.

Peter was gone then and Aro opened his eyes in time to see Peter moving around the chair, passed the little sofa, and to the bed, where the mortal allowed gravity to take over and flop him face-first into the sheets.

Aro rose from the chair, clicked the radio off, and went to the bed, ensuring each step could be heard by Peter. Careful, he sat down on the bed and waited.

Peter's heartbeat frantically in his chest, breath ragged, fists balled up into the comforter. 

“That didn't happen.”

Aro's fingers itched as he touched Peter's shoulder, he could feel the sweat through the fabric. That, and Peter was trembling.

“Fuck off,” Peter groused, face resolutely down facing.

“What's wrong?” Aro petted the human's shoulder. He was half tempted to rub his back, but he found it difficult to believe that Peter would allow him.

Peter got up onto his knees, knocking Aro's hand away with his own, and flipped onto his back before scooting until he was against the headboard. He closed his eyes, breathed in slow, deep breaths, face wet, as he tipped his head back.

Aro watched Peter for a while, listened as his heart returned to a steady rhythm, breath evening out into something natural. The tears still flowed, but he was calm.

When Peter's eyes opened again, Aro (though he hid it very well) flinched. What was reflected in his gaze was nothing short of despair. Rage and pain and sadness all coiled together like snakes in a ball, devouring each other.

Aro excused himself to the kitchen where he found a plastic cup and filled it with cold water from the tap. 

He returned and passed the cup onto Peter who took several greedy gulps, paused to breathe, then finished the drink, tossing the cup over the side of the bed.

Aro opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again, “have you been drinking?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Peter did even have the energy to yell. “You didn't smell anything on me right?” he ran a hand down his face, “no, I wasn't drinking.”

“Where were you? I certainly didn't send you on a job.”

Peter glared, “what the fuck are you? My wife? I don't owe you an explanation where I go and what I do.”

“I am only concerned for you.”

Peter looked away, looked back, face distorting. He shook his head, looked away again and said, “Of course,” covered his eyes with his arm, “of fucking course,” his voice rough, morose, “the only person who wants me, who understands me, is a damn monster.” 

Yes, there was Charlie and Amy, but they were younger, leading their own lives away from this and sure he could call them, involve them in a job or two and they get take out after but what they were was a shoulder to cry on, a pal, not what Aro was starting to become to him. He tried to repress it, tried to hide it from himself, but it was there. He hated it. And after the last few weeks, he didn't know if he could take it anymore. 

Aro remained silent, for what could he say? He was a monster. Enjoyed being as such. What comfort could he offer a man such as Peter? The conflict of his morals and his passion, his guilt and his desire to move passed it, his wanting salvation and yet relieving nothing but more hardship. Peter never felt clean in mind or body, Aro knew that. The mortal didn’t have to say that. The briefest touch told him that at the beginning. Yet, here he was, desperately trying to be good, to live up to his own standard, and his weak, fallible humanity got in the way.

  
  


For Aro, who never felt guilt, remorse for what he was and what he did, reveled in the violence and control, the stab of empathy, the comprehension of Peters plight, stung his heart.

  
  


“Why? Why me huh?” Peter didn't move his arm, “there are so many vampire hunters out there for you to flirt with. To play mother to. You seem to get off on the irony of being with your enemy. What about me said that you had to be here. Why do you keep coming to my rooms? Why?”

  
  


Aro raised his eyebrow, made a little hum, as he contemplated. “Why indeed? Why you?” Aro steepled his hands and pressed the fingertips onto his lip. “The first answer would be pure lust. You are a very attractive man Peter. Truly. I'm amazed you have held up so well considering all of the abuse.” Absently, Aro reached out and his hand found a way through Peter's hair. Peter stilled, and then decided to let Aro continue. Gently, he stroked from forehead to the back and then lifted his hand to stroke again. “You also are quite interesting and tragic in a compelling way to me. You are skilled, determined, loyal, and many wondrous qualities. There is also the fact that we can't always control who we are attracted to. It isn't relevant that we are different, we can reconcile those differences, build new commonalities of our own. I'm not looking for someone like me. Maybe I could tempt you into trying some of my interests,”

  
  


“Not likely,” Peter snorted.

  
  


The poor dear was so distraught he let go the interruption, “and you could tempt me into yours.” Aro's eyes moved to a point on the wall, his mind slipping away from him as he tried to grasp a thought of what else he could say.

  
  


“You're a vampire,” Peter finally dropped his arm, the tears finally gone from his eyes, leaving them bloodshot and glassy, “I'm a human, a hunter. Just by talking to you...just by...” Peter stared straight forward, swallowed, licked his lips, anything to derail what he was going to say, “it isn't right. I don't...I don't want this,” he weakly gestured between them, letting his arm fall next to him on the bed.

  
  


Aro removed his hand, bringing both into his lap as he regarded his poor Peter. What to do? How to approach this?

  
  


“We don't have to do anything that you do not want Peter. I will never harm you, nor anyone you care for.”

  
  


Peter blinked at him, shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. Without saying anything else, Peter rolled onto his side, curling inward on himself. “Don't be here when I wake up.”

  
  


Aro gave a nod though Peter couldn't see it, “very well Peter. I shall leave for now. I will call you in a few days. Don't do anything reckless in the meantime.”

  
  


He rose, walked purposefully to the door. He stopped, just once, as he touched the handle to look over his shoulder. Peter had rolled over so that his back faced him.

  
  


“Good evening Peter.” The door clicked behind him.


End file.
